


Rack ‘n’ Roll

by Syrena_of_the_lake



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Later Ages (Narnia), Mythology & Folklore, Narnia Fic Exchange Treat, Narnian Lore, Talking Animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 11:44:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/pseuds/Syrena_of_the_lake
Summary: A study of popular music and the influence of “Anonymoose” folk songs during the Telmarine era: A master's thesis written by Belga the Moose, dedicated to (and instigated by) her roommate Abernathy, who knows how to get her goat.





	Rack ‘n’ Roll

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rthstewart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/gifts), [Snacky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snacky/gifts), [Adaese](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adaese/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sauce for the Goose](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15775827) by [Syrena_of_the_lake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/pseuds/Syrena_of_the_lake). 
  * Inspired by [A Visit to the Museum](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135160) by [Snacky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snacky/pseuds/Snacky). 
  * Inspired by [Behind the scenes of A Visit to the Museum, or there's no feud like an academic feud](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16450175) by [Adaese](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adaese/pseuds/Adaese). 
  * Inspired by [Academic Feud for Thought](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16457750) by [Syrena_of_the_lake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/pseuds/Syrena_of_the_lake). 

> It all started with Snacky's modern-day Narnian history museum, followed by behind-the-scenes glimpses into the world of Narnian academia by Adaese and Syrena. And then came the snarky moose poet Anonymoose, who was inspired (or provoked) by the infamous Moose Song as oft quoted by Rthstewart. 
> 
> And then Ruth posted a picture of a moose as an NFE prompt, and this happened.

**Rack ‘n’ Roll: A study of popular music and the influence of “ Anonymoose” folk songs during the Telmarine era**

A Master's Thesis by Belga the Moose of the Beruna tributary Shiverhorn

As published in the _Narnian Journal of Musicology_, Beaversdam University

The culmination of Belga’s academic career began with a dare.

“You should write about the moose song,” brayed Abernathy Plowfoot. He was human, mostly, but a Satyr somewhere in his family tree had bequeathed a goatish laugh, large feet and an astonishing amount of curly hair. Along with a particularly unfortunate sense of humor. “You know. Because you’re a moose.”

Belga snorted. “If that brilliant deduction is typical of your investigative work, it’s no wonder Old Stormy is failing you.”

Professor Sturmgotter’s infamous temper was as short as the rest of him. Underclassmen gossiped about Dwarf heritage, but they were hardly much taller from where Belga stood. She was tall even for a moose, and too gangly to be much appreciated by the bulls in her home tributary, but that was all right by Belga.

She had loftier plans than a big rack and a pond full of algae.

“Is it cultural appropriation if I sing the moose song?” Abernathy asked idly.

Belga kicked at his stool, deliberately missing so he only wobbled a bit. “No, it’s just bad manners. And bad taste.”

“No one’s ever accused me of having good taste.” He took a deep breath and Belga pinned her ears back in preparation for the inevitable.

“Moose, moose, I want me a moose,” Abernathy wailed, tugging his curls like a Satyr in the throes of dance would grip his horns.

“Throwback,” grumped Belga. Then she tilted her ponderous head and flicked both ears. “And that’s the wrong tune, muckhead.”

“No it’s not! Weren’t you at the Stockyards?”

“Why should I be? I may be a cow, but not that kind.”

“The concert, Bel! Last month? Crowsby, Bills and Gnash? Sly and the Family Stoat? _Joe Cockerel_?”

Belga shrugged. “Modern music doesn’t interest me. Popular culture doesn’t interest me. Crowds and loud noises don’t interest me. Why should I care?”

Abernathy slumped back in his chair. “Where do you think it all comes from?” He asked, clearly striving to sound reasonable. He didn’t have much practice at it.

“A decline in the general gene pool?”

“No, Bel,” he sighed. “Let me put it this way. What _are_ you interested in?”

Her stub of a tail twitched irritably. “You know very well. Narnian history. Folklore. Tradition.”

“Including music?”

“_Traditional folk music.” _

Abernathy laughed and slapped her flank. “You’re hidebound, Belga.”

“Naturally.”

“Okay, okay. _Traditional folk music_," he repeated obediently in a sepulchral tone. "So where do you think it went?”

“It died out, like the dragons,” Belga sighed. “Couldn’t survive a world with airships, bass speakers and _rock and roll_.” She stamped her hoof.

“Wrong!” cried Abernathy, punching a fist in the air and nearly knocking Belga in the nose by accident. “It _evolved_, just like the dragons!”

“Not this again,” Belga moaned. “There were lizards in Narnia well before the Draconian Extinction. The fossil record alone—”

“BAH!” Abernathy shouted. “I’m not talking about _all_ lizards, you great galoot of a moose, I’m talking about _scrubb lizards_. And the fossil record clearly shows a vestigial wing structure — and, and we were supposed to be talking about music.” He glared at Belga, as if he hadn’t derailed the conversation all by himself. 

“If you mean dragons devolved into scrubb lizards like traditional Narnian music devolved into rock and roll, I’ll agree with that,” Belga allowed magnanimously.

Abernathy stamped his foot. “I am not — you — argh! Just because Joe Cockerel doesn’t play the zither doesn’t mean that music is devolving!”

Belga chewed her cud. “The zither was a Calormene instrument.”

Abernathy let out a heartfelt groan. “All I’m saying is that modern music has its roots in ancient music. And that maybe you should study it before you dismiss it. After all, if Narnians are still singing songs written by Anonymoose ages later, that must mean something.”

“You do know the moose song was _not_ written by Anonymoose?” Belga retorted rather than responding to Abernathy’s unusually cogent argument.

Abernathy blinked. “It wasn’t?”

“No. Lamentably, Narnians have been singing the moose song since the Golden Age, if not earlier.” Belga heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Many of Anonymoose’s songs lampooned other animals, yes, but this must have been in retort to the moose song’s contemporary popularity. She—”

“Who?”

“Anonymoose.”

“How do you know they was a she?”

Belga pinned her ears back at her friend’s grammar — and his nerve. “Because I have studied _her_ stanzas and the gender roles of quadrupeds in the Telmarine Era.”

“Sources?” Abernathy’s eyebrows wiggled like the hairy caterpillars they resembled.

“Not many,” Belga admitted reluctantly. “Virginia Wolf authored a compelling essay, but her citations were lacking. And don’t get me started on Ernest Herringbone and his misogynist disregard for female ruminants. Apex predators and their shoddy scholarship,” she snorted.

“So do something about it,” Abernathy suggested. “Write your thesis on the moose song — and Anonymoose’s infamous, insulting responses. Stun the world of academia with your scholarship and biting wit, and make people think about old music as something other than old.” 

His argument was surprisingly lucid for someone who had been up until dawn drinking wine by the bucketload. 

Belga had originally hoped Abernathy would outgrow such sophomoric behavior by his senior year, but here they were at the pinnacle of the post-graduate program and he still indulged in weekly benders with seemingly no ill effects. His liver must have a particularly high concentration of satyric enzymes.

Belga’s only vice was Moosetown R&B (Rhythm & Bugle), and she only indulged after exams, when Abernathy was out carousing and not around to hear. It ill became her stance on traditional music, but there was nothing she loved more than bellowing “I heard it through the grapevine” by Bachus Night and the Maenads. Besides, Moosetown was the only Narnian label to never produce a cover of the Moose Song, and Belga was inordinately devoted to them for their stance. 

It also made her reluctant to take Abernathy up on his suggestion.

“What are you worried about, Bel?” 

“That by writing about the Moose Song, I’d be giving it legitimacy,” she admitted. “It has enough of an effect on popular culture as it is. How many jokes have you heard about loose moose? How many movies have chase scenes with a randy moose trotting after the protagonist? How many bodice rippers owe their titles to the bawdiest verses? It’s demeaning and pervasive. Do I really want to contribute to that?”

Abernathy tugged at his curls. “But you’d be challenging people to think critically about it. Most Narnians think Anonymoose wrote the moose song, you know.”

“Uncultured swine,” muttered Belga.

“Hey, _I_ thought that until five minutes ago.”

“Exactly.”

Abernathy reached up as high as he could to tug her ears. “I know it’s hard, but stop arguing for one second and think about it, Bel. If you could prove that the moose song wasn’t composed by an actual moose, then wouldn’t it _lose_ legitimacy? And if you raise awareness of Anonymoose’s _real_ compositions, then won’t they _gain_ influence in contemporary music? You could be singlehandedly — sorry, singlehoofedly — responsible for a renaissance of Narnian folk music!”

Belga rolled her eyes. “I think you overestimate the popularity of academic journals. This is a thesis, not a viral video.”

Abernathy’s eyes lit up, and Belga immediately regretted her flippant answer. The last thing she needed was for her roommate to start a rock and roll band in their back yard. She shuddered at the thought. The speaker reverberations alone would give her stomachs indigestion for _weeks_. 

After a long moment, Abernathy managed to pull himself out of his undoubtedly discordant daydreams. “A viral video would be _brilliant,_ but not totally necessary. I think you’re underestimating the audience, Bel — with all that Pevensies Reborn nonsense, there’s more interest than ever in old stuff.” Abernathy nudged her as hard as he could and promptly bounced off her shoulder. “And hey, at least _you_ don’t have to argue against spherists at every turn. Round worlders, my foot! How do they come up with that tripe? How my father ever talked me into the natural sciences, I don’t know.”

“Because you like crawling after scrubb lizards,” Belga said fondly. 

“Well, yes, there’s that.” Abernathy perked up. “And I get to study their hip structure instead of the origins of the extra letter B in _scrubb_.” Abernathy’s boyfriend was a linguist (and lucky for him, Belga was above the sort of obviously bawdy pun most people would erroneously expect from a moose), and the two frequently sniped about what constituted the borders of pure science.

Belga assumed the original topic was closed; once Abernathy started on scrubb lizard anatomy, he was usually oblivious to anything else. But much to her surprise, he kept bringing it up over the following days. He probably thought he was being subtle, humming tunes like “You ain’t nothing like a hound dog,” “A horse with no shame” and an insidious little song called “Muskrat Love” that Belga couldn’t get out of her head for days. They were all inspired by classic Anonymoose poems, and Belga was torn between pride in that most famous of literary moose and a vague horror at what modernity had wrought.

“Muskrat Suzie and Muskrat Sam did _not_ do the jitterbug in the original text!” Belga bellowed one day. "It's an anachronism!"

Abernathy turned his smug fuzzy face to her and smiled. “Prove it.”

Belga stamped her hoof and turned her back and pretended she wouldn’t be up until all hours researching the first recorded use of the word _jitterbug._ (And _damn his hairy feet_, but Abernathy was actually... not wrong. The jitterbug craze swept the Telmarine-Narnian population not long after the supposed Return of the Four, right as King Caspian X took the throne. The source text said something about Queen Susan dancing with a mouse, but that couldn’t be right — could it?)

Belga swallowed the urge to argue. She would not be bullied by the great-great-great-grandson of a goat. She would choose her thesis topic calmly and rationally, and on her own time.

Abernathy’s poem was the last straw.

_Oh moose, oh moose,_

_You’re rather obtuse._

_Your argument’s weak_

_And your excuse is abstruse._

_Just write about the stupid song_

_And prove old Abernathy wrong._

And so Belga did the only thing she could. She wrote her thesis on the moose song, the evolution of call-and response lyrical poetry, and the influence of Anonymoose on modern rock and roll music. She even dedicated her thesis to Abernathy... in verse.

_To the student of scrubbs_

_And a stubborn old goat,_

_I assign this assignment_

_And devote this quick note:_

_For inspiring this work_

_My thanks are profuse._

_But don’t you dare dare_

_Any more moose._


End file.
